


Bertie's 'Bookkeeping'

by LadyKeane



Series: Bertie's Blog [6]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aww he thinks he's a power bottom, Barebacking, Bottom Bertie Wooster, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Service top Jeeves, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, and very much in love, my aunt would be ashamed of me, they're both vers ultimately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 20:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20918330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKeane/pseuds/LadyKeane
Summary: Supplemental work to the Bertie's Blog-verse.Bertie has a document saved three folders deep on his hard drive, entitled 'Archived Bookkeeping Reports'. Its contents are strictly off limits to his blog readership.





	Bertie's 'Bookkeeping'

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, dearest of thanks to my lovely readers willing to play along with the ruse that this filth was their idea, and I didn't just write it under my own steam. Love ya!  
It is not necessary to read this to keep up with Bertie's Blog - this is just an additional spicy condiment. Like Kimchi. (Maybe that could be a new euphemism...? Lol I am so lame.)
> 
> Let me address a few little caveats - barebacking is ultimately not an advisable activity. The only instance in which it's kind of remotely okay-ish is a sitch like this, in which Bertie and Jeeves have been sexually exclusive for a number of years and presumably have been successfully and repeatedly tested in that time. And even THEN it's still better to use protection. Honestly these boys could have been a bit safer. Also, olive oil degrades latex condoms, so there's that.  
I don't think I should have to say that you shouldn't take your cue from Bertie Wooster for ANYTHING.
> 
> Also, more where this came from, but updates will be very erratic.
> 
> Enjoy! ^v^

I must confess I feel a tad gunshy to be setting the following experience into words. Which is a bit odd, really, considering that I have shared a good novella's worth of embarrassing personal experiences with half the bally internet over the past few years. Everything from irate swans to social _faux pas_ so cringey that they would make even a reality TV star blush.  
  
Anyway, it's not as if I intend to share the following publicly - it shall remain a safe secret between self and laptop (and possibly Reg). Tuppy Glossop once advised me that any documents one wants to keep private should be saved at least three folders deep, titled 'Archived Bookkeeping Reports' or something equally banal. But anyone who knows this Wooster well would realise something was up. The closest I've ever gotten to bookkeeping is occasionally emptying out all the loose change in my rucksack and counting it.  
  
And it's not like this is the first time I've ever documented such sordid, self-indulgent smut. During one rainy weekend at Oxford, I faithfully wrote up my most lovingly-crafted fantasies starring self and the univerity's rowing team. I do miss that obsolete old Word doc - despite it being rife with clumsy phrasing, it did provide hours of private amusement.  
  
And, really, the events of the past week or so have been rather seminal - not only in terms of the novel new experiences, but they have brought about a whole new level of intimacy, trust, and appreciation between Reg and I.  
  
And oh, by Jove's ardent loins, what a muse I have in Reg. I suppose it would be a crime to let his splendour go undocumented. Quite apart from being my dearest earthly companion, Reginald Mandeep Jeeves, _n._ can essentially be summed up as:  
  
1) scorching hot sex-god of peerless manly beauty;  
2) fellow who renders Bertram Wilberforce Wooster into a simpering, love-dazed custard;  
3) an endless source of hidden depths, passionate feeling, and interesting factoids.  
  
I've had handsome blokes, charismatic blokes, smart blokes, sensual blokes, well-hung blokes, but in no instance has such a combination of all that and more been wrapped up so neatly in one single well-mannered package. And to boot, he always offers me the last Jammie Dodger in the packet.  
  
Before I disappear into a rosy fog of my own _amour,_ I must cast my mind back to the afternoon that Reg, Rocky Todd, and self went down to the beach by Rocky's place on Long Island. It was hard to not be stupidly cheerful when plopped down in such a scene: bright sunshine, gentle beeze, and a somewhat secluded bay that permitted nude bathing. Rocky thoughtlessly cast off his trunks the moment we dropped our things in the sand, and began to slather his bronzed form in coconut-scented sunscreen.  
  
At this, Reg quickly averted his eyes, rummaging in his gym bag for his own bottle. He concentrated on squeezing out a sensibly-sized rosette of lotion, and massaged it into my own pallid, burn-prone skin. An appealing tinge of pink had munitiously bloomed on his cheeks. In a moment of mischief, I slipped off my own bathers quite casually.  
'I may need help putting sunscreen on my hindquarters, Reg. Would hate for my bum to get all red and sore.'  
  
Rocky snorted out a laugh from where he stood, watching us with a certain whatsit glinting in his eye. Though my heart belonged fully to Reg, it was impossible to deny the poet's own pleasing attributes: wiry and fit, with terrific shapely thighs and a dazzling grin, and sunkissed brown locks draped over his broad shoulders. Not to mention his massive cock.  
  
As Reg smoothed another blob of sunscreen over my thighs and bum, Rocky stole a final appreciative glance before gallivating off into the foam. 'Last one in's a disapproving auntie,' he teased.  
I shot a cheeky grin at Reg, before ceremoniously pantsing him and willing him to chase me down to the water.  
  
Back in NYC, while Reg was still acting the green-eyed sourpuss, he claimed that Rocky had been making eyes at me. Of course, I was far too proud to admit that he was right. Now, I know Rocky to be a solid chap who would never engage in any act of infidelity or betrayal. But that does not preclude the fact that he is a pathological bloody flirt, who could ogle the entire royal family without a stitch of shame.  
However, the lingering looks I had seen him casting at Reg with increasing frequency sat more than a few degrees north of mere flirting. Just like every other warm-blooded whatsit in creation, my man's jaw-dropping beauty had clearly not been lost on Rocky. And the strangest thing was that I could not bring myself to feel jealous.  
  
We rough-housed and splashed and carried on quite bositerously, the way one does in such a sitch. I was quite open in my admiration the of smooth, dark, muscular limbs about me, shimmering with water and sunlight. Ultimately I was grateful that the water was cool enough to tamp down any visible demonstration of my regard.  
  
At one point, my man surprised me by rocketing up from under the water and snaring me in his arms, pressing a wet and rather topping kiss on the Wooster gob. I grabbed at his arms, kissing back and enjoying the flavour of a sea-salted Reg. My feet found purchase on the sandy floor and we really got into it, forgetting ourselves in a wave of nips and licks and smooches and barely-held-in moans. At this, even the cold water was ineffective at preventing a hoisting of the Union Jack, as it were. Reg's own hardening member suddenly brushed mine, and we sucked in a gasp as one.  
Normally, the two of us knew exactly what to do with such a turn-up. But given the presence of a third party, the vibe in the air was much more cat-in-the-adage than oh-god-take-me-now.  
'Don't mind me, boys,' said Rocky, who then proceeded to splash us both. The moment diffused, and the hoist was lowered as we chased after the blighter, who fled impishly with an impressive backstroke.  
  
Back at the house, we had collected ourselves enough to at least don our neglected bathers. We made pigs of ourselves on Rocky's spread of cheeses, crisps, fruit and nuts, not to mention a dash of rum. An hour or so of idle chatter gentled our horseplay, until we were sinking lazily into the cushions, and idly pelting chocolate-covered almonds at each others' mouths.  
  
'Gettin' chilly,' Rocky announced, 'you guys mind if I start a fire?'  
We both grunted assent and watched the poet lug a few bits of wood onto the hearth and kindle the thing. His biceps flexed with the effort most pleasingly.  
As the flames burst to life, Reg opened his own arms and bid me snuggle up, which I did willingly.  
  
I have been fortunate enough to enjoy many a pleasant moment in my short life, despite the proliferation of aunts, Spodes, waterfowl, and other acts of God that are frequently rained down upon me. But I state with conviction, that flopped on a deep couch, feeling a night-time sea breeze to the port side and a flaming hearth to starboard, gorged on rum-soaked sweetmeats, and enveloped by Reg's strong and tender embrace... that is the closest any living being will ever get to reaching the old celestial plane. Reg stroked my drying curls, and pushed a sliced strawberry gently between my lips.  
  
'Beautiful,' came a low, rough murmur.  
  
Rocky had dropped down on the armchair opposite, watching us with rapt attention.  
'He is,' Reg said softly.  
'I mean...' Rocky blurted, seeming quite affected, 'both of you. All that love between you. You're so beautiful together.'  
Reg stilled a bit, and something in the air changed. I think I saw Rocky's dilated pupils actually sparkle.  
  
Reg grabbed the back of my head, leaning down and kissing the last of the strawberry from my mouth. His tongue plunged its way in, heatedly, and I was all too willing to meet it. Good lord, the man could win medals in snogging.  
Just as I managed to shake of the last of the post-oscular daze, I heard Reg ask, in his smoky dark bass: 'Would you like to watch us together, Mr Todd?'  
It was a miracle that the Poet Todd did not fall out of his seat then, or else simply combust like the fire before us.  
'God yes,' he choked.  
'Bertram, do you wish to show Mr Todd just how beautiful you are when I fuck you?'  
It took my last functioning brain cell a moment to have me nod enthusiastically.  
  
Reg wasted no time in manhandling me across the sofa, splayed out like a sashimi set for a ravenous panther. Meanwhile, my heart was threatening to crash through my chest.  
'You may touch yourself, Mr Todd,' Reg commanded, and promptly affixed his mouth to the Wooster neck. A cracked whimper came from Rocky's corner, which I took to convey his most heartfelt thanks.  
  
Our usual default in penetrative sex is self as the feisty power bottom, and Reg as the generous service top. This config. has seen the odd bit of variance from time to time - in his pre-Wooster days, Reg had been quite reluctant to bottom at all, until said Wooster had tenderly and thoroughly guided him through the act, with a most felicitous outcome. However, this sudden, masterful command that Reg was now exacting over Rocky and self was spine-meltingly hot, and I was giddy for what was to come. Besides, given his recent insecurities, this could quite possibly have been the best way (or at least the most fun way) of setting my man at ease, reassuring him I was well and truly his.  
  
His kisses and nibbles seared their way down my sides, and he dithered not in tugging down both of our shorts. He took a moment to stare down at me, drinking in my nude form and sliding his hands down my chest and tummy. I'm a tad sensitive in the nipple area, not to mention a small but piquant errogenous zone at the sides of my waist. The stroke of his long, loving fingers set off flashes of keening pleasure.  
  
I had been biting back my urge to moan, until the feeling of plush Jeevesian lips on the head of my leaking cock ripped a rather melodious peal from me. He gripped my thighs and laved my head with his deft, beautiful lips and tongue, and I could not fight back the Beyonce-worthy run that wailed its way out of my throat.  
After lapping his fill, he rumbled: 'Bertram has the most angelic voice I have ever heard. Listening to him sing is exquisite. And listening to him cry out in lust as I suck him off or thrust my prick inside him is pure rapture.'  
  
I then turned my head to take in the sorry sight that was Rocky: shorts cast aside, he was splayed out across the armchair wantonly, dark eyes riveted to us as he slowly, heavily stroked his glistening red cock from root to tip. I couldn't help but recall the frantic spate of summer months when I had worshipped that long, marvellous member, whether it had been laid out in Rocky's creaky old bed or on the fresh summer grass, under a blanket of stars. With those delectations swirling in my head, and the attention of two ravishing men fixed on me, I suddenly found myself fighting the urge to come straight away (as much as I hate to mention it, the mental image of Aunt Dahlia's WI chapter buddies has its uses).  
  
Reg continued his virtuouso act, turning his attentions to my hole, lapping and swirling his tongue mercilessly in the way that's always managed to liquidise me.  
I rallied myself enough to add some lyrics to my music:  
'God... _Reg!..._ Stop... I'll come now if you keep _that_ up...'  
He met my watery gaze with one of his more wicked half smiles.  
'Mr Todd, have you any lube?'  
'Um.. just a sec... olive oil...'  
  
As he stumbled into the kitchen, Reg took the time to shower kisses on my inner thighs. I buried a hand in his hair softly.  
'I love you,' I murmured.  
'And I you, my heart.' The press of his cheek against my thigh was warm and anchoring.  
  
Rocky loped back with a bottle of half-full cold-pressed extra-virgin, his erection still bobbing proudly against his stomach. He looked veritably stricken. I think it would be fair to say that his considerable IQ had dropped down into the single digits.  
  
Speaking of digits, 'If you like, Mr Todd, you may prepare Bertram for my cock.'  
_'Uhhn...!' _Rocky riposted.  
'Bertram, would you like Mr Todd to finger you?'  
'I... Yes... _yes!..._ if you keep touching me... _Please,_ Reg...'  
  
Well, I really must say. Having one gorgeous bloke massage your ring and stroke your prostate, while another gorgeous bloke (who just so happens to be the love of your l.) snogs you breathless and caresses your sides with his elegant hands is... I want to find a stronger descriptor than oojah-cum-spiff, but I can't seem to capture one. Rocky's thick, sturdy fingers pushed into my entrance and stretched my tightness slowly and reverently, sending jolts of bliss sputerring through me as he pressed up against my sweet spot. And oh, Reg's ambrosial kisses, sharing heat and passion and promise and devotion. He skated his hands all over me, stroking my neck and shoulders and teasing my nipples. Being enveloped by two sumptuous examples of manhood, my dear old friend and my matchless paramour, senses saturated by musk and desire and virile thingness...  
  
'Fuck me, Reg! I need you to fuck me right now!!'  
  
His eyes grew as dark as I had ever seen them, and he stroked my cheek.  
'My treasure... you are to put on a show for Mr Todd. Do not hold back. I want him to hear every last lilt of your beautiful voice. Let him know how good it feels when I am deep inside you, drawing your climax from you.'  
I'm afraid I was much less eloquent - the best response I could garner was thrusting open my legs in eager invitation.  
'Come, Mr Todd...' Reg purred, 'Be close to us. The sight of you stroking yourself is most arousing. Don't be afraid to paint us with your come.'  
Rocky's lovely hard-on sat right before my face.  
  
Reg mounted me, hooking my legs over his shoulders. Oh, this was a well-loved spot to be in. When his thick, steely, tremendous prick pressed into my hole, I'm fairly sure I blacked out for a second.  
He pushed slowly and deliberately, letting me feel every last contour of him. Rocky had prepared me well, and the stretch was nothing short of heavenly.  
'Does it feel good, sweet songbird?' Reg urged me. 'Do you like my cock?'  
'Oh, good lord...' I blabbered. 'God, _yes,_ Reg..._ unh..._ you're big and hard and go-_ood...'_  
I turned my head to see Rocky's hand skimming briskly over his own cock. The poet was rather musical himself, a rather sweet string of sighs and sobs drifting out of him.  
  
Reg picked up the pace - it was pretty clear that none of us were going to last too much longer. The quickening heft of his length was building a stormcell in me.  
'Oh... _Reg..._ Reg!...that's rather... _oh!'_  
'Tell Mr Todd how it feels, Bertram.'  
'_Oh..._ bally marvellous... oh, _Rocky,_ Reg's cock is hot and divi_-ine..._ it's- ah!'  
I was more talking to Rocky's prick than Rocky himself, but you know.  
'Would you like Mr Todd to paint you with his issue, while I come inside your pretty hole, Bertram?'  
'Ohhh, Reg... you bally _scoundrel! Yes!!'_  
  
From here he set a savage, pounding pace. He grabbed my own poor, still leaking prick, pumping it with one hand as he drove into me. Rocky whined helplessly and bucked like a wild horse, his release abruptly spurting across my searing face and chest. A stream of his salty come landed in my open, panting mouth, and I'm afraid that was rather the end for me. The surge-of-lightning intensity that had been coiling at the base of my spine flooded through me, and with one last melodic warble, I spent myself on Reg's fist.  
  
A few seconds later saw Reg arch like a fine bow, and I savoured the familiar heady feeling of his hot seed filling me. It's not something can imagine myself ever tiring of. Judging from the absolutely blasted look on his handsome map, and his heavy slump across the Wooster corpus, it had been an especially spiffing orgasm.  
Likewise, Rocky was lying against the sofa on the rug, slowly getting his breath back. After a few minutes, he was able to wobble to his feet.  
'I'll go get us some towels.' He then knocked over the bowl of chocolate-coated almonds.  
  
I lifted my eyes to my man drowsily. 'Well... that was a pleasant surprise.'  
'I confess I suprised _myself,_ Bertram. I did not think I would ever be inclined to perform such an act. Nor that it would prove to be of benefit to our union.'  
I pressed a doting smooch to his brow. 'Given the particulars, I think that it did us a world of good. I have never felt more united with you. And that's not just the oxymoron talking.'  
'Oxytocin, Bertram.'  
'Right ho.  
'I do believe that Mr Todd would be partial to further such escapades, were we to invite him.'  
'You may be onto something there, Reg. And I've always felt that we were a rather friendly couple, what?'


End file.
